


Searching for Comfort in Slience

by maybesomedayyy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Romance, Short One Shot, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:13:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10037876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybesomedayyy/pseuds/maybesomedayyy
Summary: Clarke takes a moment to herself in the middle of saving everyone like always.Story is based off of the scene when Clarke pulls out the picture of Lexa while in the Chancellor's office.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! This is my first fic ever so please be kind and let me know what you think! 
> 
> Enjoy!

100 People.

 

This number seems to always haunt Clarke. She is always responsible for the fate of 100 souls, whether it was keeping them alive when they reached the ground or preserving the human race.

 

Becoming overwhelmingly frustrated with this responsibility she steps away from the list and walked around the Chancellor’s (more like her) office. Seeing her bag of what was left of personal belongings, she grabs her most prized possession: her incomplete drawing of Lexa.  
Moments like this Clarke ached to have Lexa by her side. If Lexa were alive, she would be able to keep their people calm. If she were here, there would not be Clarke’s people or Lexa’s people, they would be their people. Lexa was the only person who would understand the pressure she fells. Clarke knows that if Lexa was still alive, this weight would be just hers to bare.

 

God she misses Lexa. Clarke is craving a human, caring touch that only Lexa can fulfill. To have the Commanders strong arms around her to comfort and support her only comes in her dreams now.

 

“Fucking Titus.” Clarkes whispers to the silent office

 

As Clarke looks down at the sleeping Heda on the page and she brushes her fingers on the once soft lips a single tear slides down her cheek.

 

“What are we going to do love?”

The drawing does not answer like Clarke hoped.


End file.
